


Raising The Bar, Shooting For The Moon

by SlimeAndSnails



Series: Obey Me! But It's Gay [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, M/M, Male MC, Male Main Character, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, POV Second Person, asmo is influencing mc even though he isn't even in this, gratuitous descriptions of shoulder muscles, idk shit about exercising, just wanna let y'all know this is gay lol, male reader - Freeform, mc is thirsty, misleading summary, nothing nasty actually happens but i do make several dick jokes, rated for thirst, this is shitty but i need more masc mc content, working out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22770271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeAndSnails/pseuds/SlimeAndSnails
Summary: MC helps Beelzebub with a little problem. Rods are grasped, the limits of the human body are tested, and MC is very tired (and sore) by the end of it. How does Beel have so much stamina?
Relationships: Beelzebub & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader
Series: Obey Me! But It's Gay [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689466
Comments: 9
Kudos: 342





	Raising The Bar, Shooting For The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the idea, B. You know who you are. ;)  
> (_) is used as a stand-in for MC’s name. If you’d like, you can find a text replacment extension to replace it with your name of choice.  
> I am truly sorry for how thirsty MC is. But I’m also not at all sorry. We’re all thirsty for Beel and his muscles.  
> Repetitive writing? In my fics? It’s more likely than you think.

“A little more.” Your voice is strained and breathy, shaking slightly from exertion. Not for the first time today, you wonder at Beel and his impressive amount of energy. You think he might be able to do this all night if he had to. “Higher.” A single annoying drop of sweat slides down your forehead and down into your eyebrow.

“Here?” He adjusts slightly, moving slowly so that you don’t slip off from his lap. You tighten your legs around him, gripping onto his shirt.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Now spread your legs just a little bit.” You look back, watching him do ask you ask, and hear him grunt just slightly. Maybe the exertion  _ is _ starting to get to him.

“(_)?” He looks up at you, face starting to flush now. “Can I move now?” You nod, patting his chest in encouragement. You let go of the stick in your other hand so he can do what he needs with it, rubbing your palms together to get rid of the sweat. And promptly get distracted. Damn, watching him move is… Honestly delicious. You know you’re supposed to be counting, but how can you when you can see every muscle in his shoulders and chest flex and contract with every movement?

Right. Focus. Counting. Bench pressing. Very serious work-out time.

...

Beel’s choice abs under your hands, blocked by just a thin tank top…

It takes a lot of self control to not just run your hands down his body, but you’d really rather not distract him at a time like this. So you finally focus on counting his reps.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Damn, those biceps.

Fifteen.

“Ok, that’s your set.”

He grunts again, and you stand up to help him place the barbell up on it’s rack. Well, you try. But you’re nowhere near strong enough to lift that thing, even just holding it up for Beel earlier made you feel like your shoulders were going to explode. Damn demons are their ridiculous strength. Fortunately that ridiculous strength is more than enough for him to fix it himself, so you plop your butt back down on Beel’s hips and reach for the nearby towel.

“You were right,” he says, breathing a little ragged. “That was much better.”

You grin, wiping some of the sweat off of his hands and arms and flipping the towel onto your shoulder. “I’m always right, my dear. It’s all about your form.” You neglect to finish your thought, which goes somewhere along the lines of ‘and damn do you have a nice form’. You think maybe this isn’t the time. You sigh and start to swing your leg back over him so you can get up, but he stops you by gripping onto your knee.

“Where are you going?”

You place your hand over his. “Listen, I know you want my legs around you at all times,” you smirk at the suddenly red face in front of (underneath?) you, “but I was hoping you’d appreciate a mid-workout snack a little more.”

Beelzebub’s eyes seem to take on a brilliant shine. It’s like a switch is flipped in him any time food is mentioned. He almost instantly releases you, watching you get off of him with renewed interest. “Burgers?” Somehow you expected that.

“No, but nice try. You’re getting a healthy snack.” He sits up, eyes following you as you pick up a water bottle and hand it to him. “I’m talking about fruits and veggies. Maybe if you’re good I’ll buy you something from Hell’s Kitchen, though.” You stretch your arms up, not noticing the way his eyes follow your every movement.

Giving him a little wave, you stride off to the kitchen, offering a particularly animate painting a friendly salute as you go. The Devildom is a weird place. Once you reach the kitchen, you immediately make a bee-line for the fridge. The fresh ingredient stock is pretty low, but fortunately there’s a couple small oranges in the crisper and a freshly yellowed bundle of bananas sitting on the counter, just waiting to be devoured by a certain lord of the flies. Honestly, it’s amazing that they weren’t eaten before they ripened. Maybe Lucifer hid them until they were ready? Mystery and intrigue.

Once you’ve finished gathering up a sizable snack for your ever-hungry friend and a much less sizable one for yourself, you happily trounce back to where you left Beel. He’s now sitting on the floor, tapping away at his D.D.D. and chewing on a lollipop he produced from somewhere. Loudly.

“Dude. I  _ just _ said you were supposed to be getting healthy snacks.”

He looks up at you, exactly zero percent guilty, and crunches down even harder on his lollipop.

“You’re a menace.” There’s no real venom in your tone, and you step over to him and set a couple of the fruits in his lap. He immediately munches down the last of the lollipop (including the paper stick,  **ew** ) and goes for a large, pristine banana, peeling it and shoving most of it into his mouth in one go.

Hm.

…

…

Maybe you should’ve thought twice before giving Beel such a… phallic fruit. You sit down by him, watching him go at the poor banana with much enthusiasm.

That  _ is _ a nice sight though, up until he bites off two thirds of the thing and chews on it happily. Gruesome. You discreetly place your hand over your junk, suddenly remembering exactly what that mouth do.

Beel doesn’t seem to notice, fortunately, and is already done with the banana by the time you start on your own food. He takes a moment to suck down some water before getting started on one of the oranges you brought him. You turn away.  _ That is not a sight you need to see. _

A few moments later, he’s finished scarfing down all of his food and you’ve only got a couple bites left. So he stands up, dusting off his pants, and offers you a hand.

Honestly. Your standards are so low. And your heart just grew 3 sizes. You take his hand, letting him pull you up (wow, those arms) with no effort. He smiles brightly at you, doing that tiny bounce all of the brothers seem to do when you make them especially happy. Why are these eldritch demonic beings all so damn cute?

Focus.

You finish your snack, throwing away any waste left over.

“So what else did you want me to spot you for?” He can’t have just wanted you to help him get his form right for a few simple exercises.

Well, theoretically there’s a non-zero chance that he just wanted you to sit on him for a bit while he did hot buff guy stuff, but you think that’s pretty unlikely. Especially considering he made you warm up with him (which included a frankly unnecessary amount of stretching and running laps around the House) and show him the proper form for every exercise he did.

"Push ups."

Yep, you knew it.

"Okay. What're you having trouble with?" Push ups are the simplest exercise out there, so you have your doubts that he's messing up his form or anything like that. Granted, he also had wanted help with sit ups and squats.

"They're too easy." Sigh. Of course they are. Push ups only work if the weight of your body is challenging, and you just watched him bench… A lot. It made you feel exhausted just watching.

"So… what?"

He shrugs, rubbing his wrists the way he does when he's nervous or unhappy. "The internet says you can add weight to make them harder. Like with a heavy vest." Okay, what is he getting at? "And I saw something that said you could even have a person be your weight if you're strong enough."

…

So he  _ does _ just want you to sit on him while he does hot buff guy stuff.

You shrug. What could go wrong? "Sure. How do you wanna do this?"

\---

And so, twenty minutes later, you find yourself on your back, your tailbone probably bruised, with a particular demon now beside himself with worry. Honestly, this whole thing has been exhausting.

How did you get there, you ask?

Simple.

Beel had gotten into push up position, having you sit cross legged on his back. And so the push ups began. He started slow, testing your weight and making sure that you were balanced properly. And then you were once again distracted by his gorgeous shoulders. Really, they should come with a warning label. "Danger: extremely hot and distracting! Ogle at your own risk!"

The more you stared at him, the less concerned you were with things like remaining upright, the less tightly you held on. The more reps he did, the more confident he became, the more strength and speed he used. It’s kind of unfair how physically powerful demons are. You’d be jealous if you hadn’t just been unceremoniously dumped to the ground. And Beel is now making big worried eyes and checking you for damage.

"Ow."

That does not seem to help, considering Beel is now carefully sitting you up and making a soft whining, buzzing sound that is very out of place coming from any sort of vertebrate.

"Are you okay?" He asks, followed by "I'm sorry."

You laugh softly, patting his arm where it's now wrapped around you. "I'm fine. Mostly just bruised pride." You shift. "And maybe a bruised butt."

He frowns in that frowny way he does, moving to help you up again. Deja vu.

You stretch out your legs, confirming that there's no real damage. "You know, this is not how I expected you to give me a sore ass," you blurt out. Nice job, you horny fuck!

Beel briefly looks confused, and then he looks like he suddenly understands everything about the universe. And he's still frowning. You think that maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. And that living with Asmo has somehow rubbed off on you, pun not intended.

You laugh awkwardly, quickly changing the subject. "I think maybe you'd be better served with some incline push ups. Or finding someone heavier. I thought Belphie was a bull, not you.” 

He chuckles a little at that. “I think Belphie would make the worst bull ride ever. He’d just let you sit on his back and go to sleep.” You both crack up at that mental image, knowing it’s completely accurate. Somewhere, a particular demon sneezes himself awake.

Fortunately, your joke about riding his brother seem to convince him that he hasn’t broken you too badly and he stops making those big puppy eyes. Damn. Maybe  **un** fortunately. You think you might want him to look at you like that a little too much.

When did you get so thirsty for this guy?

“You look tired.” Beel’s voice snaps you out of your train of thought, his hand coming up to wipe some sweat off your cheek.

Oh.

You clear your throat. “Heh. Yeah. I think maybe your workouts are just a little too intense for me.” And you’re not joking. Have I mentioned how exhausted you are? Your body aches.

Beel makes a noise of affirmation somewhere between a grunt and a hum, bending down and grabbing his mostly empty bottle of water. “Right. Next time you can just watch, if you want.”

Well, you’re certainly not going to turn down a chance to ogle him without having to do any work. Speaking of which, you’re now fighting to not stare as he chugs down his drink and crushes the bottle between his hands. How has he not noticed any of this?

“Yep.” You cough. “Sounds good to me.”

He tosses the crushed bottle onto his bed, turning fully to you and crossing his arms. “Show me what you meant by incline push-ups.”

…

This man is going to be the death of you.


End file.
